Haiti - Day 7

Our day started with worship and prayer time with our team on the rooftop as the first rays of sunlight poked out at us from behind mountaintops.

How did YOUR day start?

I had the chance to talk with one of our translators this morning at breakfast. His name is Abdias, and he was with our group all week. (If you look at the picture below of the interns, translators, and village champions we had on our team, Abdias is wearing the white shirt with the small red & blue emblem on it).

As we were meeting people in the village this week, we always asked the adults where they worked. Some had jobs, but there were some that did not. I was curious as to how they managed to live, and I knew that Source Matelas (Seuss Maht-lah) is Abdias’ home, so I asked him.

“Well, something you need to know about Haiti is that we share everything. If your sister loses her job, you help her and her children until she can find one. If your father gets injured, you take care of him. But it’s not just family that we share with. We share with our neighbors, too. We take care of each other. If a neighbor needs help, we all help him. It’s what we do.

“When I was growing up, if I bought a Coca Cola, I would take the first drink, and then I would pass it around. Everyone would get a drink. Then what was left when it got back to me was all mine. It’s what everybody does here. We don’t even think about it.

“If you don’t share, or if you only think of yourself first, you no longer have the respect of your community. You are looked on in dishonor. Because we are all family here.

Preach, my brotha.

I also found out that Abdias is starting a music school of his own, to teach the local kids how to play instruments and use sound equipment. He is saving up to buy guitars, keyboard, and a sound system. This dude is awesome. I have a feeling I’ll see him again.

We crammed a lot into today. We were given quick tours of Bercy and Levesque.  Bercy is where MOH has another campus and its 2^nd school location. They are also starting a senior living center, because sometimes older people will “run away” from their family so that they aren’t a burden on them, and they end up living on the streets.

Levesque is a town that didn’t exist a few years ago. After the earthquake, Samaritan’s  Purse helped create a small shanty town for relief effort, providing temporary housing. However, they organized the yards and houses very well, and hoped to eventually get them turned into real homes. They were successful, and the town is a simply stunning sight to see. 4-5 houses share a latrine, they have shared access to clean water, and the town pride keeps it clean. MOH has a school there, as well.

Then we got back into the crazy mobile and took a Fast and Furious-esque drive back to Source Matelas to paint a house.

Paint a house? You heard me right. We painted a house. And you should have SEEN their faces. They were so happy. The kids were right alongside of us, making fun of us as we messed up lines and splattered paint all over ourselves. Then I had someone awesome happen.

Near the end of our painting, I met the oldest son in the house. Hebrew that told me he’s in his 13^th and final year of high school. He’s 24. He was very proud of his journey, and he spoke English very well. He said he has taught himself, which blew me away. What he DOESN'T yet know... is that after we got back, I discovered he has been in the school and has made it this far without a sponsor. 

...and now he has one :-)

After painting the house, we were able to talk with the family about Jesus, relating him to the paint. How? Well we got to show them where the new paint covered up old spots, cracks, and marks on the walls, and how it also protected the structure of the house from the elements. Then we talked about how when we trust in Jesus, he covers up our mistakes. He covers our own “pockmarks” and highlights their uniqueness. And he protects us from all outside harm. Boom. Jesus = paint.

Our evening ended with another awesome church service, singing songs to our savior in Creole and English with our brothers and sisters in Haiti, followed by an awesome final team rooftop meeting under the stars where we each chose something to leave in Haiti.  

How did YOUR day end?

We can’t believe it’s almost over. If you’re praying for us, pray for a few things.

1) Pray for safe journeys, and on-time flights and connections.

2) Pray for re-entry. Transitioning back to normal is hard.

3) Pray that we’ll each take time to reflect.

Haiti - Day 6

I just updated you today, but I’ll do it again.

We’ve never been so happy to hear car horns blaring as we were today. The Tap Taps were back, so the nation was alive again!

One of the team leads from Haiti showed up to the compound this morning with a giant grin that wouldn’t quit. Smiles like that don’t belong on Mondays. When asked why he was so happy, he said “This was the first time in longer than I can remember that we had elections without any violence. Do you know what that means? It means that we are finally going somewhere. We have a long way to go but my Haiti is going somewhere.”

Today our teams were split back into 3 groups again. Peter, Katie, and Kelly were back on the Mobile Medical Unit, but this time they went to the same village we did in Source Matelas (Seuss Maht-lah). They were short a doctor, but still saw 75 patients today. And a dozen people accepted Christ. So cool.

The rest of us planted trees.

Now I know what you’re thinking, because it’s what I thought when I first heard of it. Wait, what? Planting trees? How does THAT spread the gospel? Now that I know, it makes perfect sense.

Fruit trees are a luxury, and a fairly rare commodity. Once they take root and begin to produce fruit, it first feeds the family. Then the more it grows, the more it produces, and soon it gives a product to sell, which in turn feeds the community, and helps produce a family job.

But there’s more. Because I’ve come to discover that every single little thing Mission of Hope does is saturated in purpose.

When we plant a tree for a family, we don’t just plant it and leave.

We don’t drive through the village and drop the tree off at their house, but we carry the trees, the tools, the dirt all the way across the village. It gathers quite a crowd.

When we arrive, we talk with the family.

We spend about an hour with them, alongside the Village Champions (see former posts for an explanation).

We learn their names.

We hear their story.

They ask US questions.

We talk about family, food, and faith.

We hold their babies.

Their children sneeze and snot on us.

We share the story of Jesus.

We tell them that with their tree comes a great responsibility to take care of others. And unlike a more individualistic American culture, Haitian culture is others-centric. It is very communal.

One of the families saw earthworms in the dirt and were afraid that they were a bad thing, so we taught them about earthworms (looks like my 7^th grade biology actually came in handy!) and about healthy soil.

We tell them that their tree is a picture of what happens when the good news of God takes root in the soil of their heart.

We place our hands on them and pray for them (with their permission).

And when we do this, their neighbors see it, too. Which brings new discussions.

Along the way, I met a kid who had a name that was way too long to pronounce, even for our interpreter, so we called him DiDi.  Actually, I called him Superman because that’s who was on his shirt. He saw my “tatu” (tattoo) and told me he’d like to play a real piano one day. He was very excited to show me their family pig, and he nearly lost his mind laughing when I made a pig noise and a fart noise. From that moment on, he was glued to my side. Then he climbed on my back. Then onto my head.

Which reminded me that there are 4 universal languages that every kid on every continent speaks: Love, Fun, Music, and Fart sounds.

Tomorrow is a full day, and we’re trying to cram in as many of the things we missed over the weekend as we can, AND we still have to paint two houses, so we’re packing our stuff tonight.

But we're currently stuck on in the cafeteria waiting for a break in the impromptu "monsoon in our lagoon." Seriously feels/looks/sounds like a waterfall just broke above us from heaven. We aren't complaining, though. It's a nice change from the heat. The rain cooled the air by probably 15 degrees in a matter of 5 minutes :-) 

If you’re praying for our team, pray that our bodies feel rested and limber tomorrow, and that we’ll be energized. We can’t believe it’s our last day here. It’s gone by waaaay too fast.

As always, thank you for all your support, your shoutouts, and your prayers. We actually prayed for YOU tonight, and thanked God for each of you. We hope you feel loved.

See you soon!

Haiti - Day 5 (delayed)

(Sorry for the delay. The Wi-Fi was down yesterday.

I wrote this Sunday evening. Big apology to my Mom who was waiting for me to Skype for her first time ever! Here’s how yesterday went…)

We woke up Sunday morning to a country in freeze frame.

The main modes of public transportation here are colorful taxi-esque vehicles called “Tap Taps” (because you have to “tap tap” on the roof of the truck bed to let them know when to stop). They’re basically your average F-150 trucks, only with dugout benches bolted in the back of the truck bed, and a high metal roof overhead. Sometimes, if the driver/owner is a Christian, you’ll find verses painted on the front and sides.

Because of the elections today, the Tap-Taps were completely shut down.

Actually, the entire road system was shut down.

That tossed a little bit of a wrench into today’s plans.

But if you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball.

And thankfully we’re pretty good at dodging wrenches at this point in the trip.

We walked down to the church this morning to find that most of the leadership had walked there, since the roads were closed. Many of their people were missing because of a lack of transportation, and also because of the polls.

Even though their service was thinner in number, it was thick in heart. Our team was blown away by the power in that room. Never have I heard such beauty, or felt such “rawness” in a worship service. I didn’t know most of what they said, but that didn’t matter. I felt as if I did. We all did.

It was heartening to realize that our friends back home and our friends here in Haiti were worshiping the same God. With some of the same songs, even. Reading some of the same Bible verses. All while lifting hands of all colors and sizes.

It nearly knocked us flat in humility and gratitude.

After dozens of hugs, and broken-Creole goodbyes (we’re catching on to some of these words), we hurried over to Madam Cheap Cheap’s souvenir store. If you’re thinking she has the best name ever for a shop, you’re correct. We met Madam Cheap Cheap, who drives a harder bargain than her name implies.

Most of us got our hair braided. I wasn’t planning on it, but 12-year-old Jessica promised me that she’d make me look like Justin Bieber if I’d pay her a few bucks to give me some cornrows. Well, how could I resist looking like the Biebs for such a small price?

I asked the other sellers (who were also relatives to Madam Cheap Cheap) what their names were, and I was introduced to all the Cheap Cheap family. There was Monsieur Cheap Cheap, Madam Short Cheap, Madam Funny Cheap, Little Cheap Cheap, etc.

As “Jessica Cheap Cheap” (who was the granddaughter of Madam Cheap Cheap) was making me look like Justin Bieber, I asked her why they picked those names. And she said “Because Madam Cheap Cheap is a part of all of us. She stays here in Haiti, but she is also all over the world. Because when you meet her, she becomes a part of you.” Pretty deep for a 12 year old.

I asked her if I could become a Cheap Cheap too, and she told me, “Of course, Michael! You can be called Big Bootie Cheap Cheap!” Nice.

We bartered some more, and then headed back to the camp to discover that our afternoon village trip had been canceled due to the closed roads. We made the best of it by meeting some of the orphanage kids and playing some games before evening stole the sun.

If you’re praying for our trip, pray that Mission of Hope will find ways to get us back into the villages on Monday and Tuesday. The team is doing well, but we’re all a little antsy at the thought of being landlocked. If we can’t leave the MOH campus, then we’ll find service projects to complete here on campus. But it sure would be nice to be able to get back out.

As usual, thank you so much for your support, your prayers and your shout-outs. They keep us going! And will someone PLEASE give a shout out to Patty? She’s feeling very, very left out.

Blessings!

-Big Bootie Cheap Cheap

Haiti - Day 4

I’m not sure if you knew this, but we don’t have power here 24 hours a day. There’s a generator that they run from 6pm-6am. During the week they turn it on for a few hours during school, but then it’s off again until dinner. And wi-fi isn’t free, nor is it speedy. You have to pay for it, and it’s fairly slow. Inside, it’s too hot to stay in for long. Outsode, the sun is too bright to see your electronics anyway.

Limited internet, limited power, too hot to stay indoors…

In other words, today’s typical suburban child would be very disoriented at this place.

So you should TOTALLY bring your kid here sometime. I’ve been watching the families that are here serving together (Kensington isn’t the only group here), and it makes me eager to bring my own clan here one day.

You don’t really need an alarm clock in the morning. The generator is so loud that when it goes off at 6am, the silence wakes you up. If it doesn’t, the roosters outside your window surely will. It’s pretty fantastic. Or annoying. Take your pick.

After breakfast this morning, our team took a tour of the Mission of Hope campus, and it blew my mind to hear all the things that go on at this place. Orphanage, nationwide food distribution center, health/eye/dentist clinic, prosthetics lab (one of the only ones in the nation), a church, transition homes & training programs for orphans that have been aged out of the system.

Oh, and there’s a school. Not just any school. They actually have 4 locations now, and serve over 6,000 kids, with 4,000 more kids waiting to get in. The kids’ tuitions are sponsored by people (this is who Kensington’s nochild.org is partnered with), but the kids’ families also have to pay a small fee which guarantees parental investment.

The school is crazy successful. The students at all 4 locations test in the top 95% in the nation. In fact, it’s SO successful that he Haitian government has requested to use Mission of Hope’s (Christian-based) curriculum in its public schools. Absolutely unheard of.

The tour ended with us heading back into Source Matelas (“Seuss Maht-lah”) for more SVT (see previous posts), followed by a Kids Camp. At one of the houses we visited, we watched a lady limp by the gate. After we left the family we were talking to, we followed the lady and saw her foot was bleeding. She had just been struck by falling debris from a house. This time we had our nurses with us, and they sprung into action. Pretty sure that House MD would be very proud of them.  They bandaged her up and we prayed for her and her family, then headed to Kids Camp.

How do I describe Kids Camp?  Well it went kind of like this: First we crammed into a makeshift shelter that is also a public school. See the pictures below. Fifteen minutes after we arrived, there were only 15 kids. Five minutes later, there were over 100. It was like Vacation Bible School on Red Bull. Our team debuted their acting skills and taught the kids about the forgiveness that Jezi (Jesus in Creole) gives us. Afterward, we gave them some awesome cinch bags (GREAT IDEA, TONI), and the local MOH team served them rice and beans with a little chicken.

As usual, the kids asked for tons of “Fotos! Fotos!” and took turns climbing on our crew. In the middle of the clamor, I noticed that one kid sitting next to me wasn’t eating his food. His name was Gannon. He kept one hand covering his plate, and he eyed the other kids suspiciously, as if hiding it from them. I leaned over to him and motioned to his food and his mouth, asking if he was going to eat it, and he shook his head “no.” Then he grabbed a friend’s empty plate and flipped it over on top of it. I instantly understood. He was making a doggy bag. I pointed at his makeshift to-go box and asked him in broken Creole “por ou family?” He nodded and said “oui. Mi famila.” I pointed to his heart and said “bien bien bien” (good good good) and was rewarded with a giant smile, a hug, and a “shhhh” sign before he snuck out a side gate.

I sat overwhelmed for a moment as I realized that this kid had a chance at a free meal that surely would have filled his 7-year-old belly. It could have been all his. And yet he took it home to share with his family instead.

5-year-old me threw a fit when my mom tried to share my Slurpee. That kid is so much cooler than I am. My parents should have sent me to Haiti as a kid to shape me up.

But little Gannon also reminded me of our team devotional today. The theme was Empty = Full. Jesus often talked of emptying ourselves: giving up our own desires, needs, and wants, and putting the needs of others first. According to him, when we empty ourselves, we suddenly find our lives more full than when we began. Which makes us want to empty ourselves and give even more. Which makes us even more filled. Which begins an endless cycle of generosity and fulfillment. Everyone wins.

Again, simply brilliant.

So if you want to know what our team is feeling right now?

Exactly that: near-empty and overfilled at the same time.

Well, the generator just turned on for the evening, which means it’s dinner time.

Tonight we’ve got dish duty, then some of us are going to go watch a movie (in French) with the orphans before bed.

So if you’re praying for us, pray that we’ll continue to find new ways to empty ourselves even more while we’re here. And pray that we’ll see Gannon again. We’d love to meet his family.

As always, thanks for all the support, prayers, and shout outs! We’ll check back in tomorrow!

Haiti - Day 3

Today was a little…different. Let me tell you how.

But I’m going to need your help.

It’s going to take a little imagination.

Imagine that it’s Monday evening.

You’ve finished your first day of work for the week, and you’re getting things ready for the next day. This week holds a heavier workload than usual, but you’re not upset about it. You know it’s good work, and it will be a productive week that could impact the future of your company. You also know you’re going to be tired, so you’ve scheduled a one-day getaway for Saturday so you can celebrate and have a little fun.

But while making your final preparations for Tuesday, your boss calls you. Which is odd for this time of night. He tells you there’s been a facilities issue at the office, and the building will be canceled tomorrow. Because of that, everyone will be asked to work on Saturday to make up for the loss. But since he knows that it’s important that you have a rest day, he urges you to take your vacation tomorrow instead.

Impromptu vacation on a Tuesday. That’d feel a little weird, right?

Well that’s kind of what happened to our team.

I have no idea if US media has told you, but there’s a presidential election this weekend in Haiti. There are 52 candidates running. Every billboard, every storefront is plastered with flyers and advertisements. If you want to know what it feels like here, take all the anger, ranting, insults, and threats that you see on Facebook, and make it happen in real life. With real weapons.

There are helicopters buzzing in the distance. The streets are filled with political caravans, police escorts, and even UN tanker trucks.

Don’t worry, though. We’re not in any danger. We’re far from the cities, and we’ll be staying on campus when elections take place on Sunday. We are completely safe. I don’t share this to scare you. I share to let you know that while it’s easy for me to think that the US is the only country where political stakes are high, Haiti is clearly proving that wrong for me.

Since the social climate matches the thundering clouds above my head right now, Mission of Hope staff let us know late last night that there was a good chance that our roads to the beach would be physically blocked off next week on our rest day, and they switched our schedule.

So today, we took our rest day, and went to the beach. #sufferingforJesus

Although the bus ride there felt a whole lot like the Knight’s Bus from Harry Potter (google that clip!), our jaws hit the floor when reached the beach. It was beautiful, bright, and hot. It sat at the bottom of mountains with peaks that were in the clouds. Take THAT, Pine Knob.

We visited shops, sipped mango lime smoothies, picked seashells, and soaked in the sun. We were completely grateful, and enjoyed every minute of the day. Celebrating and resting on our 2nd full day felt…weird. And it means we’re going to be working right up until we leave for home. But our team was flexible, and took the time to energize and get ready to dig in.

While at the cove, we met somebody. His name was John.

The moment our toes hit the salty water, John paddled up to us on a beaten-up paddleboard that was covered in shells. Turtle shells, conches, crab shells, you name it. I ended up buying one because he gave me a great deal.

“The best deal ever,” he even told me.

The beach was light, so I spent some time talking with him, and discovered some of his story. He was in his early 30’s, and he told me he worked every morning and afternoon selling seashells and being a translator. Then after work every day, he went to college from 5pm – midnight. He was very proud to be going to school, as school here is a privilege, not a guarantee.

He told me he is studying to be an electrician so he can build homes and take better care of his wife and two kids. I asked him if he knew Jesus and his eyes lit up. “Oh yes. I know Jesus.” He told me that he goes to church every week at the church he married his wife. I asked him if we could pray for anything, and he asked that we pray that he would finish school. He said it’s hard to work all day and go to school all night, but he only has 7 months left.  I promised him that we would and he smiled big and thanked me, and gave me another shell for free. “See? I told you I give you the best deal ever, my brother.”

When we got back to camp tonight, we each shared a single word. We were challenged to spend the last couple of days listening to God and asking him for a word to describe the trip for them. Our words were as unique as our members. I’d tell you what they were, but I’ll let you ask them when you see them in person.

I’ll tell you mine, though. It was LIGHT. Because light lets you see. And when we share God’s light, it lets them know that God sees them.

Whether they’re selling seashells by the seashore or stocks on Wall Street.

Whether they’re rioting in a city or ranting on the internet

God sees them. God sees us. And when we KNOW that?

It can change our lives a great deal.

The best deal ever, even.

So how can you pray for us? Pray our sunburns heal quickly.

Pray we remember our lines and have fun.

And of course, pray for our new friend John! 

Again, thank you for your support! And THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE SHOUT-OUTS! They're our favorite part of every evening! If you have any special things to tell our group, or to say to embarrass your friend or loved one who is on this trip, comment and I'll share it! We love it!

Haiti - Day 2

For the love of DEET!

Our mosquito-swarmed team was split into three today!

One team joined an MMU (mobile medical unit), and the other two teams had SVT (Strategic Village Time) in the town of Source Matelas [pronounced “Seuss Maht-la”].

The MMU team set up camp in a local church, and gave free medical assistance, diagnoses, and prayer. Sweat-soaked and cheerful, the stories our nursing crew brought back would move you to tears.

Peter told us of a 10-year-old girl who was his first patient. Her hair was red, a common sign of malnutrition. Her illnesses were many, at the end of their conversation, he discovered she was recently orphaned and living on the streets. Ten years old.

And this was his first patient.

All in all, they gave care to (and prayed with) over 160 people, in partnership with local doctors and the pastors of the church.

In the next town over, SVT groups were paired up with translators and Village Champions and sent out into the neighborhoods. What’s a Village Champion? Glad you asked. It’s a pretty awesome program. Village Champions are native Haiti residents that are paid by Mission of Hope to serve as full-time pastors and advocates to the communities. Absolutely brilliant. And it works, too. The people in these homes lit up whenever our VC walked in.

At each home we encountered, we took a small census. We asked them about their families, their stories, their homes, their health, and their spirituality. And they asked us about ours. Then we gave them hygiene packets (soap, washcloth, toothpaste, toothbrush), and showed them how to use them, and (with permission) we ended our conversations with prayer.

Our conversations were NOT quick, though. The goal for SVT isn’t primarily information. It’s connection.

As we talked to them, their children tackled us, braided our hair, used us as climbing walls, stole our glasses, and filled our phones with selfies.

So. Many. Selfies.

Each house was unique. Some had cement floors, some had only dirt.

Some had block walls, some had tin, and some had merely sticks and tarps.

Some had water. Some shared a pump with a neighbor. Some had none.

Some had a designated latrine, while some left their owners using the corner of the yard. Or the street.

And I’m upset because one of my toilets (plural) at home leaks a little

Each family, each person had a different story, and they were eager to share it. But as the day went on, we noticed a trend. Not in the stories, but in the prayers.

Whether we met them in the neighborhood or in the makeshift church clinic, we discovered that every person asked us to pray for…

Health (for them or a loved one)

Kids (to grow up well and learn)

Provision (for food or shelter)

Guidance (to make good choices)

Protection (from the elements or enemies)

I don’t know about you, but that sounds an awful lot like the prayer requests I hear back home. From my church kids. From their parents. From my park families. From my own lips.

Strip away the walls we all live in:

whether they be brick or board,

tin or tarp,

drywall or dirt,

and we’re all still looking for the same things.

It ALSO sounds a lot like the prayer that Jesus told us to pray 2000 years ago.

Hmmm…

We ended tonight with a whole lot of reflection and a little bit of worship. We were definitely better rested today, thanks for the prayers & shout outs. Keep ‘em coming!

As always, thank you for supporting us on our trip! We couldn’t have done it without you!